


Next To Me

by dhyanshiva



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhyanshiva/pseuds/dhyanshiva
Summary: On hearing the opening chords, he felt Aman shift beside him and soon, he was stood in front of him, hand outstretched. Kartik couldn’t help but smile and let the other man help him to his feet. Kartik’s hands found their place at Aman’s waist and he shivered slightly as he felt his arms come up to loop around his neck. The familiarity of this, their dancing offered some comfort, for which he was grateful.Or, Kartik and Aman reflect on where they stand as the clock creeps towards 01/01/2019.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Next To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daydreamingstoryteller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamingstoryteller/gifts).



> Today marks 6 months of the wonder that is Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan! :)
> 
> As I post this, it's also about 02:45 AM in Australia so Happy Birthday, Mehan! You're one of the founding parents of this viewership and yeh toh banta hai - it's a milestone in 2 ways!  
> Thank you for everything :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this piece!
> 
> Dhyan x
> 
> The dard of writing 'Life Jacket' from Ellie's POV (Broadchurch) has made its way here so the piece is a little angsty - er than expected.. whoops

Three months had passed since Kartik and Aman had returned to their home in Delhi. Now on the brink of a new year, waiting for the clock to strike midnight, the couple found themselves on the terrace of their building. Dinner had been a sombre affair, neither of them saying much. The living room walls felt like they were closing in on them and the taller man’s discomfort had been evident. Armed with an electric lantern, blankets and both their phones, Aman had taken his hand and led Kartik to the terrace. Laying on their backs, shoulders touching, they stared up at the stars in silence. Soon, Aman found that the view was much better to his left rather than above him and turned on his side to fix his gaze on his boyfriend. Even here, the frown lines hadn’t quite smoothened out. A day’s pretence of acting like the Kartik Singh their colleagues knew had worn him down and Aman hoped not for the first time that he could take some of the pain from him. The chaotic chain of events that transpired in Allahabad had left their mark in more ways than one. It had taken a month or so for the bruises on Kartik’s torso to fade and even longer for the haunted look in his eyes to ebb away. It arose in his more unguarded moments, when he thought Aman wasn’t looking. He hope fervently that tonight, the promise of a new beginning would help him leave the events of September where they belonged: in the past. They say time heals all wounds and Aman hoped that Kartik would allow himself the small luxury of this to help him heal.

Kartik found himself unable to relax, not completely. They were on the verge of entering 2019 and it wasn’t the first time that night he realised how close he’d gotten to losing Aman. Forever. The idea of a new beginning when it felt like his lifeline had been severed made his chest ache, even now. Aman had reassured him time and again since they’d returned home that he wasn’t going anywhere but it did little to soothe him. All Kartik felt was guilt. Overwhelmingly so. The fact that he’d had a hand in creating the mess in the first place was something he could never forget. Barely able to stifle a sigh, he reached for his phone and opened up the Spotify app. Listening to his own thoughts was only going to make him feel worse and to avoid that, music was the only option. The song he’d been listening to for a while now had been set on loop and he saw no harm in letting it play now. On hearing the opening chords, he felt Aman shift beside him and soon, he was stood in front of him, hand outstretched. Kartik couldn’t help but smile and let the other man help him to his feet. Kartik’s hands found their place at Aman’s waist and he shivered slightly as he felt his arms come up to loop around his neck. The familiarity of this, their dancing offered some comfort, for which he was grateful. Though physically with him at this moment, Aman seemed to be lost in thought and lest he say something to ruin the moment, Kartik decided not to say a thing, content with the situation as it was. He let Dan Reynolds’ voice echo around them, knowing they expressed all he hoped to tell his Aman.

_Something about the way that you walked into my living room_

_Casually and confident looking at the mess I am_

_But still you, still you want me_

The lyrics seemed to be tailor made for him and Kartik. There was simply no other explanation for the way they hit him in the gut and took him back to that sunny yet depressing morning two days after the fiasco of Rajni’s almost wedding. Aman still remembered the wave of emotion that had threatened to pull him under when they’d first entered the flat. Seeing their haven again after what felt like an age in Allahabad had startled him. This was home. This was his and Kartik’s space. One that his father had forced his boyfriend to return to without Aman next to him. Not that Kartik had listened. And really, why had he expected him to? It was unlike Kartik Singh to give up without a fight. Why had it rendered him speechless when Kartik stood on that terrace, megaphone in hand? Perhaps it was his confidence, the way his voice rang through the air without wavering. He’d come back to fight. For Aman, for _them._ Even after being thrown out and insulted so brazenly. When Aman didn’t stand up for him, for them. He _hadn’t_ given up. He’d taken a stand, walking onto the terrace of Aman’s childhood home, not discouraged in the least by the defeated state that Aman had been in. He had enough courage for the both of them and it hurt to recall now the aftermath of that reckless, bold and brave behaviour.

_Stress lines and cigarettes, politics and deficits_

_Late bills and overages, screaming and hollering_

_But still you, still you want me_

Kartik could easily discern what was going on in Aman’s mind and the second verse took him to the same moment. Over the four years they’d known each other, first as friends then as lovers, he’d never seen Aman so broken, as if the light of his soul had been snuffed out. Their relationship wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, of course not. In a city like Delhi, it was easy to get swept up in the crowd, and it was even easier to get burdened by the demands of work. Balancing four jobs between them in order to be able to live a comfortable life had been no walk in the park. Stress from the outside world often found its way home and a normal conversation turned into a conflict more often than he liked to admit. There were a few close calls with paying the rent, dealing with all too frequent power cuts and lightbulb fuses blowing at the worst possible moments. Yelling at one another over the silliest things, tense discussions over more delicate matters were scattered across their time together too. They managed to resolve most of their arguments before turning in for the night, so it was never too bad, really.

Yet, Kartik hated seeing the frown on Aman’s face, the furrowed brown, the darkening of his eyes when his anger mounted and always did his best to reason things out, to make him smile once more. Aman wasn’t a man of many words, his eyes and body language were his means of communication, for the most part. Thus, to see him so vacant, so resigned to his circumstances shook Kartik to his core. If they could successfully overcome all those hurdles without too much trouble, surely they could do this too? Aman’s smile at his (admittedly reckless) behaviour and that he hadn’t been yelled at for his stunt gave Kartik all the strength he needed. He was proud, really, of how much he’d been able to withstand that day though now, the phantom ache returned, making him wince a little.

_Oh, I always let you down_

_You're shattered on the ground_

_But still I find you there_

_Next to me_

They’d been together so long that now Aman truly believed words weren’t necessary for them to communicate, he felt Kartik’s muscles tense and the wince didn’t escape his notice. He shifted his grip to press his thumbs lightly on the nape of his neck and it helped ease the tension there, if the small smile Kartik gave him was any indication. Running away had been the only choice available to Aman at that moment and there were times he regretted it though it had been in his boyfriend’s best interest that he’d done so. Aman had locked himself in his childhood bedroom and let the dam break, the force of his sobs making his chest ache, though the pain was nothing in comparison to the kind Shankar Tripathi was inflicting on his Kartik in the courtyard below. Later that evening, when the rest of the household had fallen asleep, he’d sneaked downstairs to meet his lover.

The sight of _many_ blue and purple bruises on his torso made him sick. The sight of him on the cot shielded from the winds by a bloodstained pride flag alone made shivers run down Aman’s spine. To see him in such a vulnerable state, defeated, after seeing him stand up for what was right broke Aman’s heart. He hadn’t woken as Aman had applied some balm on his injuries but moments after he’d put the box away, Kartik had reached out for his hand and held onto him. Aman didn’t have the heart to let go and sat next to him all of that night. He still didn’t know who derived their strength from who – all Aman knew was that he couldn’t leave Kartik in that state, not when he’d been the reason for all of this in the first place.

_And oh, stupid things I do_

_I'm far from good, it's true_

_But still I find you_

_Next to me_

Kartik hadn’t estimated correctly the extent of Shankar’s hatred and bigotry. What he’d said to Aman at the train station was something he believed wholeheartedly. For surely, education ensured understanding and acceptance? When that had turned out to be untrue in this case, he and Rajni had planned for that spectacular speech, hoping two days of time and space put between them and the other Tripathis would make the older man see sense. Walking onto the terrace with bravado that he didn’t truly feel, Kartik realised within seconds that this was not the case. He managed to deliver his speech and the warmth he felt on seeing Aman smiling up at him disappeared when he saw the positively murderous expression on the scientist’s face. It hurt him to realise that Aman intended to stay through the impending beating. He scolded him but Kartik could hear the fear in his voice. Fear for _him_. This was a stupid, reckless move and the furthest thing from a good idea, but he was glad that Aman hadn’t forced him to walk away. He was disappointed but didn’t have it in him to dissuade him further. Seeing him writhe against chacha’s firm grip, the agony on his face was all the incentive Kartik needed to pick up the danda again. Better him than Shankar’s own son, at any rate. If it meant that Aman’s father could let out the anger that clouded his judgement, then so be it. If doing this meant that he wouldn’t lose Aman, then he’d take a hundred beatings in a heartbeat.

It had hurt him more to watch Aman run upstairs when he’d been standing there with his arms outstretched but Kartik could recall now the last coherent thought that had gone through his mind before losing consciousness: he did it in hopes of keeping me safe. And that was enough to reassure Kartik that Aman hadn’t given up hope. He distinctly remembers the agony and burn from his wounds cool at the careful application of some kind of salve. Even though he’d barely been awake, Kartik knew that the tender touch was Aman’s. Yet again, his boyfriend had taken up the task of dealing with the aftermath of his recklessness but Kartik didn’t have it in him at the time to express his gratitude verbally. He remembers reaching out to hold the other man’s hand as he succumbed to the forces of sleep once more. Kartik was brought back to the present moment by a featherlight touch on his cheek. Aman’s eyes were roaming over his face and Kartik could’ve kicked himself for ruining the moment with his inability to hide his emotions. He tried for a reassuring smile, but it didn’t seem to help much as Aman’s frown of concern became more noticeable.

_There's something about the way that you always see the pretty view_

_Overlook the blooded mess, always looking effortless_

_And still you, still you want me_

The haunted look mingled with guilt had returned in Kartik’s beautiful eyes. Though physically present, the song that had been playing on loop for a while now had taken his mind and heart to another place entirely. Though the relationship between them and Aman’s family were slowly on the mend, the scars inflicted on Kartik’s psyche would take years yet to heal. It made his chest ache to recall how he’d left Kartik on that cot in the early hours of that godforsaken morning to don that monstrosity of a sherwani. The garment itself was quite nice, sure, but the way it clung to his form like a second skin made him feel like a different person altogether. Like the Chandravadhan his parents so desperately wanted him to be. He remembered praying, hands clasped in front of the Shivling, hoping beyond rationality for a miracle. And within moments, the Lord had granted his wish in the form of Kartik Singh. The dull ring of a bell had jolted him back to reality and Aman hadn’t been able to hide the disappointment from showing on his face. Which soon turned to fear mixed with a touch of anger. How could Kartik not see how futile his effort to stop this wedding was? Yet, Aman knew Kartik wouldn’t give up, not until the last moment, if the determination in his wounded gaze was anything to go by. Sure enough, the heated conversation that followed the beaten man’s arrival. He looked put together, his appearance hiding almost completely the wounds that had been inflicted on him not even half a day before.

Kartik’s optimism was only hurting him more and Aman was trying to make him see reason. Kartik Singh would be the first to tell him that life wasn’t a bed of roses, but he was also the man who’d deliberately ignore the thorns that pricked him and focus on the beautiful petals alone. He tried to see the best in people, in situations, give them more chances than they deserved, hope that they wouldn’t let him down. Kartik Singh was determined to show that his lohaar of a father hadn’t beaten the hope out of him yet. It had broken Aman’s heart to see him clutch his bicep, so obviously in pain but persistent and persuasive in the face of his platitudes.

_I got no innocence, faith ain't no privilege_

_I am a deck of cards, vice or a game of hearts_

_And still you, still you want me_

The light of the lantern cast a warm glow around them and the tattoo on his forearm caught Kartik’s eye. The decision to get such an intricate design, so loaded in its religious symbolism was impulsive (no surprise there). He hadn’t thought it through at the time, the desperate search for _something_ to hold on to, to anchor him overriding all rationality. The sting of the needle was a small comfort. This was a pain he’d chosen to endure unlike the abuse meted out to him by his sorry excuse of a father. There were many things he hated about the blacksmith but above all was the fact that the man’s treatment of his of his own _son_ had robbed him of any semblance of naivety. Still, in order to preserve the last of his humanity, Kartik had persisted. Determined to see the best of every situation, every person. No one could be worse than his father and knowing that for sure was what allowed him to gamble with his heart so much. There was no kind of hurt that the world could inflict on him that he hadn’t endured already. Destiny had always dealt a bad hand but Kartik would be damned if he didn’t do his best to turn things around in his favour. Just this once. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask?

_Oh, I always let you down_

_You're shattered on the ground_

_But still I find you there_

_Next to me_

Seeing Kartik so lifeless as he threw the flowers at the procession had sent a sharp pain through Aman’s chest. What could he have done though? He was atop the horse, the mandap was ready. It was just a matter of… the bride arriving. Over the years, he’d learnt just how many times Kartik had been let down in the past. Even before they’d confessed to being a little in love with one another, when they’d been just friends, Aman had vowed to not hurt him as badly as they had. But what had he been doing then? He’d become someone to count as them and that he’d come so close to ruining the one shot of happiness Destiny had blessed him with was something he’d never be able to forget. Kartik hadn’t broken his vow to him and so, how could he? Yet, he was and there seemed to be no way out of the trap. That was until Kartik Singh found a way to turn the situation on its head yet again.

_And oh, stupid things I do_

_I'm far from good, it's true_

_But still I find you_

_Next to me_

Kartik couldn’t help the grin at the memory of what took place as soon as he’d discarded the black cauliflower. The sight of it had repulsed him almost as much as the notion of Aman being married to a woman. He’d scaled the stairs two at a time, knowing if he’d stayed to watch Aman ride away, he would breakdown. Kartik looked down at the man in his arms now and tightened his grip slightly, realising yet again how lucky he had been to come across the letter. Just moments prior to the discovery, pulling apart the bright floral decoration, he felt as if he was wilting. That had been it. He’d lost when it was most important for him to win. Not only for himself but for _them_. Then Kusum had done the unfathomable and he’d seized the chance with both hands. Draping the sari wasn’t too difficult a task though Kartik’s concern was with getting to the mandap without a hitch. Rajni had helped him (not before setting a small bet, unsurprisingly) and they were nearly done with the saat phere when chaos ensued. Above the din, he could hear Aman’s exasperated yells but then, he’d taken everyone by surprise and defied his father, his family. The ache in Kartik’s heart vanished on hearing him speak with such conviction. Shankar’s bewilderment in the face of his son and brother’s defiance had been surprising to see but it had paved the way for him to begin accepting his and Aman’s relationship. For that, he was immensely grateful.

Again, Aman’s touch brought him back to the present and he was a little mortified to realise that the smaller man was brushing a tear off his cheek. When had he begun to cry? His boyfriend looked even more worried at this so Kartik reassured him in the best way he knew. Letting go of Aman’s waist completely meant that they stopped their swaying to the music and like all the other times before, time seemed to freeze as Kartik bent slightly to kiss his boyfriend.

_So thank you for taking a chance on me_

_I know it isn't easy_

_But I hope to be worth it_

Aman was taken aback by the sudden kiss but reciprocated immediately. It wasn’t often that words failed Kartik Singh but when that happened, the taller man usually turned to physical means to express what he couldn’t say. This was a feeling he’d never tire of, that was for certain. Like he was soaring through the sky though both feet were firmly on the ground. The kiss grew increasingly passionate though Kartik’s hold on his body remained as gentle as ever. Aman knew somehow that this was his way of forgiving Aman for all the pain he’d caused him, the big and small wounds. For the steps he took, or worse, the ones he didn’t, _couldn’t_ take. For the words he said and for the times he stayed silent. He’d never quite been able been able to gather the courage to ask it of him and he knew Kartik would forgive him regardless. But Aman knew he’d hurt him, the sense of betrayal had bruised his pride, made Kartik doubt himself. He knew that even if his boyfriend forgave him, it would be a long time yet before he could forgive himself. Still, he hoped the kiss helped convey the gratitude that was welling up within him. He’d never let go of Kartik Singh, nor would he allow anyone else to try and separate them. He’d come perilously close on more than one occasion and he couldn’t bear the thought of that nightmare becoming a reality. Aman Tripathi would be incomplete without Kartik Singh and that fact was indisputable. With him by his side, no obstacle felt too great to overcome and together, they’d face everything that came their way

_So thank you for taking a chance on me_

_I know it isn't easy_

_But I hope to be worth it_

Time and again, Kartik had let Aman down and he hoped this song, this kiss told the other man all that he couldn’t quite express. The mess that their trip to Allahabad had become, the countless breakdowns of their bike Bahadur (they'd settled on the name after fighting between Basanti and Byomkesh for 5 hours), the stupid little things, the bigger ones that were harder to let go of, so many things were partly his fault. Yet, if Aman Tripathi found it in his heart to forgive him then maybe one day, Kartik would be able to unburden his conscience of the pain he’d caused him over the years. He smiled a little into the kiss as he felt Aman reach up to tangle his fingers in the now tousled mop Kartik called his hair. As friends and as lovers, they’d stumbled and fallen countless times over the years and each time, his boyfriend had given him his unconditional support, for which he was immensely grateful. That he and Aman had managed to weather the greatest storm that had come their way gave Kartik the confidence that they’d make it to the end of their days with one another.

_Oh, I always let you down_

_You're shattered on the ground_

_But still I find you there_

_Next to me_

_And oh, stupid things I do_

_I'm far from good, it's true_

_But still I find you_

_Next to me_

They pulled away at the same time, a dazed look in their eyes. The light in Kartik’s eyes had returned and Aman’s smile was so broad his cheeks ached. There were tears in both their eyes as the couple held onto one another and they whispered the words that held greater meaning to them than any vow of marriage. The clock struck 12 and they embraced the new year with hope in their hearts and a whispered ‘ _mere liye tum kaafi ho_ ’.

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Next To Me by Imagine Dragons
> 
> The date 21/02/2020 holds a special place in my heart and the people I've met because of SMZS have been nothing short of miracles. I owe this masterpiece (not without flaws, of course) my life and that's the honest to God truth.
> 
> Thank you to every single person that's a part of this family, it's been a wonderful journey.
> 
> Much love,  
> Dhyan x


End file.
